


The New Frontier

by VenomSpider33



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Destroy Ending, Edited by Ghost Fire 6, Gen, Post-Mass Effect 3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20940155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomSpider33/pseuds/VenomSpider33
Summary: Fifteen years have passed since the Reaper War. Since Shepherd made the sacrifice needed to destroy the intergalactic threat towards all sentient life in the Milky Way. Yet new and old dangers challenge the young peace the galaxy has only just founded. However, just as before, there will be those who'll answer that dare with everything they've got.





	The New Frontier

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, folks. Welcome to the first in a new story that examines a post-Reaper galaxy. Don't really have much to say, other than to please leave a review if you liked it!

_He ran onto the shuttlecraft, the soldier yelling something he couldn’t make out over the sound of gunfire and explosions all around him. And the screams...they weren’t human. Not anymore, anyways. It was more like...broken machines grinding together. He grabbed a rifle and turned back, unloading on the pale blue corpses and ungodly abominations firing on them._

** _BWOOOOOOM!!!_ **

** **

_That sound sent chills up his spine, and soon, from around what had once been buildings and skyscrapers came a large, purple machine. The ground shook with each step it took, and all he could do was look at that large, glowing red light…_

And then he woke up, the roar of gunfire and ungodly machines replaced by the faint hum of the SSV Gettysburg’s life support systems and gravity dampeners. The smell of ash and death replaced with the almost sickeningly sterile air, the sight of that red light replaced with ones of fluorescent and the white ceiling of the bunks.

‘_How long’s it been? Goin’ on about...fifteen years now, I think. Fifteen years since everything changed, since the galaxy was almost ripped apart, and I still have that same awful dream...’_

The man groaned as he got out of the bed that was almost too small for him, bedsprings creaking as he shifted his weight. “Hey, Tom. You ok, man? You’ve been mumbling something for a while.” A turian in the cot next to his asked, and the man now identified as Tom nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, Meran. Just...a few bad dreams is all.” Tom answered, but Meran still looked concerned.

“Bad memories, huh?” He asked, getting another nod.

“Yeah. Feels like they always get more vivid right around this time of year.” He answered as he got out of bed. He stood at over six feet tall, and was extraordinarily muscular by human standards. At the very least, Tom didn’t have to relive the memory of just _why _he was so tall and muscular. He hadn’t been visited by that particular dream in a while, and he was all the more grateful to his subconscious for it.

Soon, Tom was dressed in the standard blue and gray Alliance uniform, looking at himself in the mirror to make sure he had it on right. His short, dirty blonde hair was closely cropped, and his sharp blue eyes would have gazed a hole in anyone else. There was a small scar just above his right eye, courtesy of a stray piece of shrapnel. Just a physical souvenir to go along with the mental ones.

“You gonna stand there looking at yourself all day, or are you going to get to work?” Meran asked.

“Yeah, I’m just...thinking, I guess.”

“Whatever you say…” The turian said as he adjusted his uniform, before he exited the barracks. Tom followed behind him, almost running into a human. A lot had changed in the past fifteen years, but at least the Alliance was still mostly the same. Well, mostly...

“Watch where you’re going, half pint.” A Krogan growled as he brushed past a nervous human , causing Thomas to sigh as they sat down at the mess hall.

“Well, there’s progress. At least he didn’t shove anyone this time…” Meran remarked as they opened their rations. “Honestly, why they decided to let korgan on starships, let alone that cranky old man, I’ll never know…”

“Well, they did kinda turn the tide of the War and everything. Dunno if we would have made it without them.”

“Still, krogans on a cramped metal tube being shot through space? I can remember a time when that was a recipe for disaster.” 

“Well, the old rules don’t really apply anymore, do they?” Tom replied, when they felt the ship shudder a little, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “We’re dropping out of FTL already? I thought that we were at least a day away from the Relay.”

“Beats me. I just shoot what you tell me to.” Meran replied as the two stood up. They followed the other crew members to one of the aft windows, Tom managed to grab a human.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“One of the scanners picked something up, so we’re diverting to investigate.”

“Ok, but what’s the big deal?” Meran asked, the crewmember gestured to window.

“See for yourself.” She beckoned, and the two exchanged a glance. The two went over to the window, and the chattering of the crew members faded away as Tom saw the object. It was two kilometers long, with a dark purple hull with strange ridges and contortions, and five long protrusions that gave it the appearance of a calamari.

“A Reaper…”

“Holy shit…” Meran gasped out. “I thought...I thought they were all destroyed.”

“They were.” A Salarian stated, staring out the window at the dead giant. “When the Crucible was fired, most of the Reapers on Earth were instantly destroyed. Any Reaper stragglers caught in the energy field were...I dunno. Deactivated or something. Just chunks of dead metal floating through space. They are occasionally found by Alliance teams, and it’s estimated that roughly a dozen still remain intact, just floating.”

Tom couldn’t hear any of what the salarian was saying, of course. All he could do was just...stare. Stare and remember the ash and dust, of the deafening gunfire and the screams of the damned, and that awful red light…

“I’ve never actually seen one before…”

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

“...killed my entire family on Thessia.”

“Killed my brother…”

“...sister…”

“...parents…”

“...daughter…”

Floating through space, he thought it looked almost...beautiful. Just a metal behemoth, an engineering marvel made by those who had been wiped out countless eons ago. Tom almost couldn’t tell that it was but one of hundreds of similar creatures that had almost destroyed them. That they had poured out of the blackness outside of the galaxy, with the sole purpose of destroying all sentient life in the galaxy. How many were killed in that six month long war? Even now, fifteen years later, they didn’t have exact numbers of how many were killed by the creatures known only as the Reapers. His parents, his brother...reduced to statistics, just three more in a death count of millions, if not billions.

“_Commander Baxter to the Bridge. Commander Baxter to the bridge.” _The ship’s intercom announced, stirring Tom from his thoughts. He took a deep breath, unclenching his fists from the death grip they had been in.

“Fifty credits says it’s got something to do with that.” Meran remarked as he gestured to the dead Reaper, earning a sigh from the human.

“Be ready just in case.” And with that, Thomas Baxter headed into the elevator. It shot up from the frigate’s crew deck all the way to the bridge. Thomas said a silent thank you to the dedicated elevator designers who had improved the once dreadfully slow elevators, as within a minute and a half, the elevator doors parted to reveal the bridge. As an older vessel, the _Gettysburg _still operated with the traditional human bridge layout, as opposed to the turian model used by both models of the _Normandy. _

Thomas crossed the bridge to one of the scanning stations, where a woman of Irish descent in her late 60’s was staring at a holographic representation of the Reaper. “Captain Morrison. You asked to see me?” Thomas asked as he stood at attention, the Captain’s eyes never leaving the projection.

“Commander. I take it you’ve seen the main attraction?” Morrison questioned.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a nod, the woman clenched her jaw.

“Y’know, I’m from Earth. Dublin, born and raised, just like the rest of my family. Couldn’t stand it, so the first chance I got, I enlisted in the Alliance. I’d get back there every now and then, but it never really felt like home, even with all my family there.” She explained, before gripping the technician’s chair so tight her knuckles turned white. “When the Reapers came, they didn’t even bother with Ireland. Didn’t think there was enough population there to justify those damn conversion camps. One of these goddamn squids just fired that fucking laser a few times, and just...flew off to join the others. My whole family, gone in an instant.”

“I’m...sorry, ma’am.” Thomas replied, Morrison simply scoffed.

“Every time I think we’ve gotten rid of these...monsters, another one pops up. Lifeless, dead, but the memories…”

  
“The memories stay.” Commander Baxter spoke up, earning a smile from the Captain.

“Right, you’re the last person who needs a reminder of what they did.” She stated. “I don’t need to remind you of proper procedure, do I?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Get your team ready. We’ve got a schedule to keep, and I don’t want to spend too much time chasing ghosts.”

“Understood, Captain.”

** Later **

** **

The engines of the UT-50 Kodiak hummed as it propelled them away from the _Gettysburg, _and towards the dead Reaper. Thomas found the hum of the engines oddly comforting, providing a dull melody to which Thomas inspected his sidearm.

“This whole thing is a waste of time.” The krogan from earlier stated, drawing Thomas’s attention. “The thing’s dead. I say we just strap the bomb to a missile, blow it up, and get moving.”

“And that’s why the krogan aren’t in charge.” An asari bluntly stated, earning a growl from the krogan. “You know what the procedure is, Trag.”

“And the procedure’s a waste of time. Ain’t no reason we need to go in the damn thing.” The krogan, now identified as Trag, growled out, earning a sigh form Meran.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Judging from the glare that Trag shot at the cocky Turian, Thomas thought that he would have to intervene. His hands glowed a pale blue...but Trag just grumbled.

“Saw enough of those things on your world to last me a lifetime.” Thomas agreed with the krogan. Hell, he knew they all did. Meran was a smartass, always has been, a coping mechanism brought on by being the sole survivor of a family that had died in the fires of Palaven. Tethys, the asari, had been helping train asari huntresses when the Reapers invaded Thessia, and had watched many of her students meet their untimely ends. And Trag, the krogan, was a vicious warrior hardened by almost a thousand years of battle, and had been on the frontlines of both Tuchanka and Palaven. Tom didn’t know the full story-that would require having more drinks with Trag than his human liver could handle-but whatever happened on Tuchanka, it left him as the sole survivor of his clan.

They were an odd bunch, that much was certain. Even in the mercenary bands that still roamed the Terminus Systems, one would be hard pressed to find a human, a turian, an asari, and a krogan working together. But they weren’t just any regular individuals. Meran was a demolitions expert, and damned good one too, who once made a sizeable bomb out of nothing but a dismantled medical scanner. Tethys was an Asari matriarch, with several human lifetimes worth of experience to back it up, and a hell of a sniper, capable of shooting an elcor’s eye out from two clicks away. Trag was a krogan battlemaster, a one man army who Tom had once seen clear out an entire room full of Eclipse mercs in less than three minutes.

They were the best of the best, and that applied to their leader as well. Forged and hardened in one of the worst conflicts in galactic history, Thomas Baxter was N7, one of the chosen elite who put regular soldiers to shame. In addition to knowing his way around a gun, Tom was a biotic, and a powerful one at that. As a graduate of the Grissom Academy class of ‘86, he knew how to use his powers to their full potential, trained by one of the most powerful biotics in recent memories.

They were the Undertakers, an elite outfit created following the war’s end. Picked from the best of each council race, they were charged with finding and destroying Reaper remains, even if they never wanted to see the damn things again. When the war ended, scavengers had descended onto the recovering galaxy. Arms dealers, collectors, pirates, scavengers and other lowlifes had helped themselves to the left over Reaper tech left lying around. Husk heads, components of Marauder shields, Cannibal rifles, Brute armor...that was just some of the technology recovered and destroyed by the Undertakers in the six years since Tom had joined. It was a dirty job, an uncomfortable one at that, but someone had to do it. Plus, in some bizarre way, destroying the remnants of those who had taken so much...well, it felt pretty good. Though they’d never found an actual Reaper before. At least, not in the two years since Tom had taken over. That one was new, and Tom couldn’t help but wonder if it was a coincidence or some sick cosmic joke.

“Trag, quit acting like you’re the only one with bad memories of those things. Back there is a whole ship full of people thinking the same thing.” Tom spoke up, earning a scoff from the old krogan.

“I doubt any of them ever actually saw one. Hell, I’ll bet you a hundred credits none of those ship rats ever set foot on a battlefield.”

“But they all lost just the same.” Tethys spoke up. “No one was untouched by the Reapers. Everyone lost something-their home, their world, their families and loved ones-and seeing that thing brings it all back. Emotional scars often carry just as much, if not more, pain compared to physical ones.”

“Hrm. Still makes my skin crawl.” Trag growled out.

“Ah, that famed Matriarch wisdom versus that famed krogan wit. It’s like watching an unstoppable force meet an immovable object.” Meran joked, earning another glare from the battlemaster.

“Meran, ease up. Don’t want Trag getting an itchy trigger finger while he’s watching your back.” Baxter warned.

“Don’t worry, commander, I don’t kill turians…Well, not anymore.” Trag ‘joked’, causing Tethys to roll her eyes.

“Now, how’s the bomb?” Baxter asked, gesturing to a large box seated next to the turian.

“Well, the antimatter payload’s ready to go, so the hard part’s done.” The turian demolitions expert explained, earning a nod from the human commander.

“Uh, Commander?” The pilot called from the cockpit, Baxter got up from his seat to head to the cockpit.

“What is it?”

“I think I see an entry. There’s a hole blasted in the side of it, probably from a cannon of some kind.”

“So bring us in, set us in there.”

“That’s not all, sir. I’m picking up an exhaust trail, consistent with that of an older Kodiak model.” The pilot explained, causing Baxter’s brow to furrow.

“How recent?”

“Judging from the dispersal, I’m guessing about half a day or so. The _Gettysburg _was probably getting interference from the Reaper, hence why we didn’t pick it up.” The pilot explained, this getting Tethys’ attention.

“Do you think it could be pirates? Reaper tech does go for a fortune on the Omega Markets...”

“Nah, it’s probably that little volus creep again. Bet he’d walk around naked just to get his hands on a genuine Reaper.” Trag commented, the thought making Meran shudder.

“Now that’s a pleasant image…” He muttered as Baxter frowned.

“Let the _Gettysburg _know, but proceed as planned.” He ordered, the pilot nodded as Tom turned back to his team, summoning his omnitool.

“Alright, here’s the game plan.” Tom started, a hologram of the Reaper appeared before him on the console in the center of the shuttle. “We’ve confirmed that this is a _Sovereign _class Reaper, one of the attack ships. Now, as to how it got here, we’re not sure. All we know is that, at some point, it got into it with an enemy ship, where they gave it this little beauty mark.” The commander explained, highlighting the hole on the starboard side. “This is our insertion point. From there, using maps of previously explored Reapers as reference, we will proceed to the mass effect core.” As the human spoke, he used his omnitool to draw a red line from the hole to the center of the Reaper. “Once there, Meran will set the antimatter bomb and prime it.”

“I’m thinking three hours should be more than enough time for us to get to the shuttle, then back to the _Gettysburg _so we can get the hell out of here. Trust me, you don’t wanna get caught in this thing’s blast radius.” Meran explained, affectionately patting the bomb, earning a wince from Tethys.

“You would do well to keep that in mind…” She muttered as Trag spoke up.

“Conditions?”

“Zero G, little air. That means helmets and mag boots.” The human explained. “Our formation will be Trag in front, Tethys behind him, Meran in the back, and I’ll form up the rear.”

“Isn’t a little...cliche to put the krogan in front?” Tethys asked, earning a chuckle from the krogan.

“Just means I get first dibs at whatever comes at us.”

“Now, we don’t know who’s going to be waiting for us. It could be pirates, Korval’s men, or god knows what else. Be prepared for anything.” The commander finished as the pilot called back.

“Coming up on the insertion point now. Be ready!” With that, the others all rose to their feet. Tom faced the door, helmet in hand.

“Helmets on!” He ordered, and they all obeyed. The hum of the engines faded away as their helmets locked into place, replaced with the hiss of their helmets filling with oxygen. The shuttle pulled up to the hole, and the door opened. “We got this job because it has to be done right. Let’s give the galaxy one less reminder. Undertakers, move out!”

Trag was the first out. Design was, his armor was no different than the standard krogans, with the thick shell like design and the angular helmet, with the dark, muted browns and grays worn by his clan, with two small handprints on either side of the helmet. Tethys was next, wearing armor that was predominantly white, with blue accents around her chest, legs, and back. Meran’s was based off a discontinued set of armor that had once been favored by the Blue Suns, with the demolition expert putting his own spin of yellow and black.

Tom was the last one out, himself wearing black and grey armored designed after that of the subjects of Project Phoenix. He had the trademark N7 logo on his left breastplate, with that recognizable red stripe up the arm. On his right shoulder was the same insignia that was on all of theirs: that of a crow, black wings spread wide with white eyes glaring down a beak, a white moon serving as the background for the dark mass.

They down from the shuttle, their magnetic boots activating to secure them to the metal floor. As Trag raised his shotgun, scanning the room for threats, Tethys and Tom picked up the box.

“I’m scouting ahead.” The krogan stated over their commlink.

“Understood. Don’t go too far.” The commander instructed as Meran pulled the assault rifle from his back, allowing them to secure the bomb to his back.

“Package secured.” Tethys reported, earning a nod from Tom as they pulled out their weapons. The asari went for her Black Widow sniper rifle, while Tom pulled out the latest model of the Avenger assault rifle.

“Uploading navigational instructions to HUD now.” Baxter called out as he activated his omnitool. Immediately, their helmets began to display red line that went across the floor, directing them to go further into the dead monster.

“Commander, I’ve found something.” Trag called out, signalling his position. They moved up, finding their battlemaster examining a landed shuttle.

“Well, looks like we found our pirates.” Meran commented, as they examined the craft.

“While it is an older model, it appears well maintained. These parts look top of the line.” Their sniper commented, and her eyes widened when she saw an insignia on the shuttle. “Commander, have you seen this insignia before?” She asked, and Baxter walked over to her. What he saw was an insignia of what appeared to be some kind of scythe, with the blade almost reminding him of a Reaper.

“Doesn’t look like any pirate group I’m familiar with.” He commented, turning to their krogan. “Trag, this look familiar to you?”

“Nah, first time I’m seeing it. Could be one of those new crews operating out of Terminus, though.”

“And Korval could be outsourcing now. Nirdan did take out quite a few of his men before he went down.” Meran remarked, sighing as he reminisced about their fallen salarian squadmate. “Spirits, I miss that little psychopath. He never did pay me that money he owed me…”

“He did always know how to liven up a room.” Baxter remarked, earning a scoff from the Matriarch.

“And burn it down…” She muttered, placing her hand on the shuttle. “Hm. It’s not warm.”

“So they’ve been here a while. Good, I’ve been itching for a fight.” Trag grinned a littlebas he cocked his shotgun. The four moved forward, Trag in the front, Tethys behind him, Meran in the middle, and Baxter taking up the rear. As they moved through the Reaper, Tethys couldn’t help but feel a chill up her spine as she looked at the hallway.

“Goddess, with the way these hallways twist and turn, I feel as if my sanity could go at any moment…”

“That’s the point. These things weren’t designed for comfort, not the way our ships are. Every inch of this ship is designed to make organics lose their mind when coupled with indoctrination fields.” Meran explained.

“I am aware. However, reading and seeing are two different things…” The Matriarch remarked.

“At least the indoctrication fields aren’t active anymore. Our minds would’ve been scrambled a hundred times over by now.” The bomb carrier explained. “Happened to a Cerberus team right before the War. They were studying a dead Reaper, and it drove them all nuts.” Their commander didn’t say anything, just tightening the grip on his rifle at the mention of Cerberus.

“Y’know, Meran, one day you’re going to say something, and-” The lead started to say, when they heard a metallic clang, followed by footsteps and chatter.

“Watch it, idiot.”

“Or what, we’ll wake it up?” The voices were close, the Undertakers cast a glance back at their leader. He nodded, and they all took cover behind the metal contortions of the hallway.

“This thing’s as dead as all the others. Just a big hunk of dead metal.” The second voice stated, the human and krogan of the squad rounded the corner to see two men in black and gray armor made of mismatched parts. Tom held up a fist to signal them to hold position, as the men walked past him.

“Hey, have a little respect. Do you know what you’re standing on? It’s not just a piece of metal, it’s-” Before the first man could finish his sentence, Tom and Trag stepped out of their corners. Tom’s hand hummed with biotic energy as he held it right behind the first man, while Trag simply pointed his shotgun at the other man.

“Stay calm. Don’t make any sudden moves.” Baxter warned, as the men held their hands up. “Tethys, their guns.” The asari didn’t even respond, moving forward and disarming both men. As she did so, it allowed the first man to glimpse the insignia on her shoulder.

“Alliance scum.” He growled out.

“Now now, let’s not get to name callin’. Otherwise, my feelings might get hurt.” The krogan warned. “Oh, and any of you call yer friends, I’ll be givin’ this hallway a new paint job.”

“R-right. Whatever you say.” Man two stuttered out.

“Who are you? Do you work for Korval?” Baxter asked.

“Who?” Man two asked, while man one just chuckled.

“That vulture? Give us a little more credit.”

“Then give us some answers.” Thomas warned. “I’m guessing you two aren’t alone. How many?”

“Counting us? About-”

“You say another word and I’ll kill you myself.” Man one growled. “Kill us if you want, fascist.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?”

“We are in service of a greater cause, one you cannot stop!”

“Dude, what are you-”

“A righteous storm is coming, one that shall cleanse the galaxy and allow us to start anew!” Baxter and Trag exchanged a glance at the rambling.

“Shut the hell-” Before man two could finish, man one activated his commlink.

“All points, we-” And that was all he managed to say before Tom clenched his fist, releasing the biotic energy and reducing the man’s head to a fine red mist.

“Shit!” Meran exclaimed, as man two began to beg for mercy.

“Oh god. I-I’m not like him! H-he’s crazy! They all are! I-I just took this job because I needed cash!” He pleaded, Trag cast a glance at his commander.

“Want me to pop him?”

“Don’t waste the bullet.” Baxter ordered, and looked at the man. “How many are there?”

“A-about ten or twelve, I think. Some of them were here when I got here yesterday. They’ve had ships coming in and out for about a week now.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t fucking know! Some merc group, hired me off of Omega to help out as security for a salvage job.” The man explained. “I’m a freelancer, and…well, it’s been hard finding work lately“

“Slow down.” The commander beckoned. “What do they want?”

“You think they tell me? This Reaper stuff goes for millions on Omega, maybe they wanna make a quick buck?” The hostage explained while Tom frowned under his helmet. “They’re...they’re asking what that message was about.”

“Tell them it was a false alarm. Nothing out of the ordinary.” The commander ordered, the man nervously swallowed as he activated his comm.

“F-false alarm. Nothing out of the ordinary.” The man stated, causing Tom to look at Tethys.

“Take him to our shuttle. We can interrogate him later.”

“Understood.” Clearly the asari had objections, but she was a professional. The sniped stowed her objection for now as she bound the wrists of the man behind him, and began escorting him back towards their shuttle.

“So we take prisoners now?” The krogan asked as he turned to the human.

“You heard how he talked. The other guy was some kind of nut, but not him.” Thomas explained, gesturing to the floating body of the other man. “Remember what Sinclair used to say: don’t waste what you can use later.”

“And all Sinclair’s fancy lessons got him was a shallow grave on some backwater mudball.” The battlemaster shot back. “I got a sayin’ of my own: don’t turn your back on tomorrow’s enemy. I learned that the hard way.” He growled out, as Tethys returned.

“Prisoner secured. I instructed the pilot on what to do if he tried anything.” She explained, earning a nod from Baxter as he checked the map.

“Alright, we’re nearing the drop point. Once we pass through here, we’ll have to pass through a long corridor, and then we’re at the mass effect core.”

“Which is probably where all of crazy’s friends are.” The bomb carrier commented. “I dunno about you guys, but I’m not exactly eager to get into a firefight with twenty pounds of antimatter strapped to my back.”

“Which is why Tethys will be providing you cover from the doorway.” Thomas explained. “Me and Trag will draw their fire, and Tethys will tell you when to move up.”

“Understood.” They all replied, even Trag. The krogan was a cranky, cynical asshole, but when it came time to do a job, he was one of the most professional soldiers Tom had ever met.

They pressed forward to the long corridor, where they could hear what sounded like heavy machinery on the other side of a shut door. Meran stepped up and pulled a small device off of his belt, turning it on and holding it to the door. It sent a feed to all of their omnitools, displaying a thermal image of the room behind them.

“Let’s see, one, two, three…I count eight soldiers. All armed, but two of ‘em are working on some kind of…I’m not sure, some kind of a machine.” The turian explained, and Tethys strained her ears.

“It almost sounds like...a drill?”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good.” Tom spoke up. “Trag, you go right, I’ll go left. Tethys will provide support, while Meran stays back here.” He half expected Trag to have a cynical remark about taking prisoners, but the krogan bit his tongue. They had a source of information already, and as cold blooded as it sounded, there was no need to take any prisoners. “Meran?”

“Setting charges now.” The turian pulled out a squad device and affixed it to the door, pressing a button that synced it to his omnitool.

“You ready?”

  
“Just don’t get in my way, kid.”

“Three...two...one.” And with that, Meran pressed his omnitool, setting off the breach charge.

The door exploded, and after a half second of shock, that’s when the bullets started flying. Not taking any chances, Meran ducked behind a corner as Baxter and Trag moved up. As the enemy bullets impacted his shields, Baxter fired a few rounds from his Avenger rifle, before he and Trag took cover behind a crate of some sort. The two exchanged a glance and a nod, before Tom’s hand began glowing with blue biotic energy.

A soldier approached from the right, only for Tom to make a bowling motion. Biotic energy rippled across the ground, the soldiers dodging to avoid the shockwave. The momentary lapse of fire allowed the krogan to hop out of cover, a pull of his shotgun’s trigger, turning the chest of the first soldier into a fine red pulp. The battlemaster charged forward, bullets impacting his shield as he rammed a soldier, slamming him into the bulk head before spinning around and unloading a shotgun blast into the chest of another. Trag felt what could best be described as a swat on his back. He turned around to see his last soldier had pulled out a stun baton, one which had snapped in two when hit against the krogan’s thick armor. Because of the helmet, Trag would have figured that the expression on the man’s face was something akin to pure fear. Not that it mattered, as a point blank bast from the shotgun turned his head into an exploded watermelon.

As Trag tore through his half, Thomas focused his attention on the other four. Reloading his Avenger rifle, he moved forward, firing on them. He hit one in the chest, but the others had all invested in decent armor, which Thomas frowned at. Firing off a few rounds before sliding into cover, Tom clenched his left fist, blue biotic energy swirling around it. As bullets impacted the crate he was hiding behind, he closed his eyes as he remembered the placement of the men.

He had four soldiers to deal with, and he’d killed one. There were two on the right, one on the left, something corroborated with the pattern of the gunfire. Thomas’s eyes snapped open, and he threw his hand forward. A blue ball of energy flew out and circled around to the one on the left, and once Tom felt it connect, he clenched his fist and pulled back. Tom couldn’t hear him over the gunfire, but he was willing to bet that he was freaking out as biotic force pulled him forward, the laws of physics temporarily suspended as he flailed about in midair.

At least, he was until a well placed shot from Tethys in the doorway hit him right between the eyes, and Tom gave a silent nod of thanks as he felt the man go limp. Rising to his feet, he held his hand up, converting the grip of the pull into a biotic lash, before slinging his hand and slamming the dead man into the two soldiers. He released the grip of the lash, and before the soldiers could recover, he fired off a warp field. The biotic fields combined and mixed together create an explosion of biotic energy, killing the final two just as Trag blew the head off of the last man. All in all, the firefight took two minutes, from breach to the death of the last man.

“Clear.” Baxter called out, allowing Meran and Tethys to emerge from their hiding spot. “You guys alright?”

“Well, just a little miffed I missed out on all the fun.” The turian remarked, as Tethys and Trag removed the bomb from his back. Meran folded his rifle up and put it on his back, turning to take the bomb from them.

“You sure you don’t need us? You just about pulled your back trying to get it on the ship.” The krogan asked.

“Benefits of no gravity, my krogan companion.” Meran remarked, as he guided the bomb through the no gravity environment. He pushed it onto the ground in front of the core, the magnetic dampener activating as the turian pulled up the display. They could hear Meran humming to himself as he did so, while Tethys sighed.

“Where do I know that tune from?”

“Hm? Oh, some ad I saw the other day. Trying to sell me some crappy timeshare on Illium.” He explained, as a timer appeared before him. “Alright, just gotta-” That was all Meran managed to say before his shield exploded, blue blood poured from a hole on Meran’s back. Tom’s eyes widened, and he turned around to see the first soldier he killed. The one he killed with the rifle, holding what looked like an old Phalanx pistol.

Trag was the first to react, finishing the job with his Claymore as Tethys rushed to Meran’s side, pulling up her omnitool and scanning him. “How is he?” Tom asked as he ran to his friend’s side, a scan of the turian appearing.

“The bullet was disruptor ammo, so the bullet ripped right through his shields at that close range. It hit him in the spine.”

“That...that explains why I can’t feel my legs.” Meran groaned, Tom frowned under his helmet.

“Is he going to make it?”

  
“I...yes, I believe so. His hardsuit clamped down on both points, applying medigel, but-” Tethys started to say, when Tom’s eyes widened.

“Wait, both?”

“Yes, it passed through and-” And then the asari reached the same conclusion, and they both turned to the bomb...and the bullet hole and glitching timer. “...oh.”

“Let...let me see.” Meran gasped out, groaning as Tethys turned him to see the bomb. “Heh…well shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Trag asked.

“Well, I *cough* I’ve got good news, and…” He coughed a little. “...bad news. The good news is that...it didn’t hit the payload, so we’re all not getting turned into nothing. The bad news...the bad news is that it hit the timing mechanism.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Tom asked.

“It means that...that we can’t just set the timer and run anymore. Someone has to manually activate it.” The demolitions expert explained, everyone’s eyes widened at what that meant.

“So we go back to the ship and get a new one, big deal.” Trag offered, Tom could swore he heard a hint of desperation in his voice as Meran shook his head.

“A...alliance ships aren’t allowed to carry more than one antimatter bomb at a time. Reduces...reduces the chance of accidental detonation. Don’t want anyone’s molecules getting annihilated mid-Relay jump…” Meran explained, before proceeding to cough some more. “We’d...we’d have to go to the Gettysburg, go to a certain Alliance station, and then come back.”

“And that’d take about a week. By then, whoever these men work for will have returned.” Tethys explained.

“And that means more Reaper tech out there in the galaxy.” The Commander finished, slowly balled his hands into a fist. “There’s gotta be something we can do. Gotta...gotta be some kind of equipment we can use to set it off.”

“Nothing on that shuttle…has a range long enough for us to use it from a safe distance.” Meran pointed out, taking a deep breath. “Look, I’ll stop beating around the bush: you guys…go, I’ll stay.”

“No. We all go back, or none of us do.” Tom declared, not noticing how Trag clenched his shotgun.

“C’mon, Tom…think. I’ll just be a bunch of dead weight, and there could still be scavengers somewhere in the ship…if they ambush us, we’re all dead.” Meran logically explained to his friend. “This way, we...you...only lose one.”

“And that’s too damn high.” Tom rebutted. “We’ll find a way, we-”

“Tom.” Tethys’s voice cut through his helmet’s speakers, the asari putting a hand on the human’s shoulder. “He’s...he’s right. If whoever these men work for return, then they will just resume their operation, and that means more Reaper technology in the wrong hands.”

“You said it yourself: we’ve got this job because it’s gotta be done right.” The krogan backed up, Meran grabbed Tom’s arm, getting his attention.

“It’s fine, Tom. I’d rather go out destroying one of these things…than spending the rest of my life behind some desk.” Meran reassured.

Tom refused to accept this. Refused to sacrifice his comrade, his teammate, his friend, to destroy a dead hunk of metal. But the rational part of Tom was screaming at him, telling him that this had to be done for the sake of the mission. That didn’t mean he hated it any less.

“Do you...do you have anything you want me to do?” Thomas asked, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking as Meran thought.

“Well, if you could clear out my search history, that’d be...that’d be appreciated.” Meran weakly joked. “In all seriousness...I’ve got a storage unit on the Citadel. Always planned to empty it out if I got an apartment there. There’s...there’s something there, wrapped in an old flag. Can...can you bring it to Palaven? I know...I know it’d be hard, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Tom cut off. “Anywhere specific?” He asked, as the wounded man leaned back.

“Well, anywhere’d be great, but...could you try the old capital? I...I was born there, and-”

“And it’ll be done.” Tom assured.

“Good, good.” Meran nodded. “Oh, yeah, one more thing?”

“Name it.”

“Try living a little, will you?…All of you. No need to be all grim and serious all the time.” Meran pleaded. “We all went through hell, and we came out…mostly intact. So, y’know…start actually using that life.”

“I…” Tom’s voice caught in his throat, and all he could do was nod. Meran coughed some more, finishing with a groan.

“Well, that’s probably a sign for you guys to get goin’.” Meran stated, emotion creeping into his voice. “I...I just wanted to thank you guys, for everything. Serving with you guys...it’s been an honor.”

“The honor is all mine.” Tethys spoke, cupping both sides of Meran’s head and pressing their heads together. “May you find peace in the embrace of the goddess, my friend.”

“I uh, I don’t have any fancy prayers or anything like that.” Trag commented, kneeling down to clasp the Turian’s shoulder. “Uh...as far as turian’s go, I hated you the least. Most of the time, anyways.” This got a laugh from Meran, followed by a groan.

“And as far as grumpy old krogans go, you were my favorite.” The turian replied, as Tom stood up and turned to the door.

“Let’s...let’s move. Goodbye, Meran.”

“Goodbye, Tom.”

And with that, the remaining Undertakers moved back though the hallways, retracing their steps to arrive back at their insertion point, heading into the shuttle, where the captured scavenger was handcuffed to a seat. As the door shut, Tom stuck his head into the cockpit.

“Take us home.” The pilot gave a nod, and the feelings Tom was desperately trying to bury threatened to boil over. It was like he was inhabiting someone else’s body, fully aware of what was happening but unable to directly control it. He didn’t control it when he walked straight past the hangar crew, when he stepped into the elevator that shot him straight to the bridge. The sounds around him were all muffled, only vaguely aware he was telling Morrison what happened on that Reaper and the brig’s new resident. Tom was forced to watch as the Gettysburg began to turn away from the Reaper, and he figured Meran knew they’d had enough time, as a sphere of pale blue light began to emanate from the Reaper, enveloping the dead behemoth, before a black sphere enveloped it...and it was gone, as the matter collided with antimatter, destroying everything within three kilometers...including Meran.

** Later **

** **

_“And what happened to the man you captured?”_

“After we returned to the Gettysburg, I remanded him into the custody of the security team, who then escorted him to the brig.” Thomas explained to the glowing blue hologram before him in the Gettysburg’s QEC room. The dark skinned man in front of him was Admiral Jacobs, the one who had originally organized the Undertakers, and Thomas’s boss.

“_I’ll arrange for him to be taken when you arrive at Polaris. We’ll grill him for what he knows.” _Jacobs stated, Tom swallowed the lump in his throat.

“The...the team would like to know what our orders are, sir.” Tom asked.

“_Same as they were before. Stay on the Gettysburg until your arrival at Polaris. There, you’ll transfer to the Radiant Dawn, where you’ll be taken to a planet in the Artemis Tau Cluster.” _Jacobs explained. “_We’ve got intel indicating the presence of crashed Reaper dropships. Once you arrive, then-”_

“Um, sir?” Tom spoke up, clearing his throat. “I...was wondering if we could postpone that mission. I...made a promise to Meran, and-”

“_All due respect, Commander, but we don’t have time for promises. You have my condolences for your fallen member, but the mission remains the same.” _Jacobs stated, and all Tom could do was grit his teeth. “_Now, I’ll see that you all get some shore leave soon, but until then, you have work to do.”_

“Understood, sir.”

** Cargo Bay **

The elevator hissed open as Tom stepped into the cargo bay, where he could hear Tethys and Trag arguing.

“…ast straw. I’m not going to just sit around waiting for my number to be punched.”

“We have a duty, Trag.”

“And I got something more important to do than rounding up dead monsters.” Trag retorted, as Tom rounded the corner and drew their attention.

“I just got off the comm with Alliance command. They…offered their condolences, before giving our next orders. Our plan remains the same: travel to Polaris, where we’ll be transferring over to an Asari ship called the Radiant Dawn, before-“

“Are you serious?” Trag cut off, approaching Tom. “We lose one, so they just pat us on the back and give us something new to do?” Tom swallowed the lump in his throat before he nodded.

“We finish one mission, we get another. That’s the deal, same as it always is.”

“Not for me it ain’t.” The battlemaster stated. “We get to Polaris, and I’m gone.” This caused Tom’s eyes to widen.

“Trag, come on. Let’s talk about this and-“

“No, no more talking.” The krogan declared. “Look, I got nothin’ but respect for you, Kid, but we’ve been dropping like flies lately. Piera, Nirdal, and now Meran…our luck isn’t just running out, it’s gone. It’s been gone, ever since Sinclair bought it.”

“So you’re going to just pack up and walk away?” Tethys questioned. “I never thought a Krogan would be scared by death.”

“Death ain’t what I’m afraid of, Tethys. Everyone’s ticket gets punched sooner or later..” Trag stated. “I’ve got things I gotta take care of. Something that’s more important to me than a buncha relics, and that I can’t do if I get killed on some hunk of metal in the middle of space.”

“If you walk away from this, you’ll be disrespecting everything the others died for.” Tom protested, but Trag was unphased.

“Meran survived the worst war in the history of the Galaxy, ran god knows how many of these missions, only to end up shot by some punk with a Phalanx on an unplanned mission, all so some civilians don’t have to look at ugly reminders.” The krogan growled out. “You two wanna get killed chasing fossils, knock yourselves out. You just won’t get me killed with you.”

“Trag…”

“Don’t. You’re not changing my mind on this.” Trag reaffirmed, he and Tom stared each other down. “Now, do you accept my resignation, or do I have to fight my way off?”

“…I do.” Tom hated to say it, but he’d known Trag long enough to know that when he _really _wanted something, he’d get it, no matter who got in his way. If he wanted off, Tom knew he couldn’t keep them there.

“Good. Best of luck.” And with that, Trag walked off, leaving the human and Asari alone.

“That…could have gone better.” Tom remarked.

“Honestly, I believe that was the best case scenario.” Tethys stated, folding her arms as she leaned against a crate. “This has been brewing for a while, ever since Piera. Meran…Meran was the last straw.”

“He shouldn’t have been. Meran should have made it off that thing.” Tom stayed, shaking his head. “If…if I’d made sure that guy was dead, then-“

“Blaming yourself will not bring him back, Thomas.” Tethys stated. “The blame lies on all of us. We all should have made sure they were dead before using the bomb. We all grew careless, and Meran paid the price for our hubris.” She explained, continuing with a she sigh. “A unit cannot be merely two people. Will you request a replacement for them?” A common theme for the day seemed to be a frown from Tom.

“I can try, but I’m not too optimistic. This is a volunteer unit, and we don’t exactly have a lot of people clamoring to sign up.” He explained. The Undertaker selection process wasn’t nearly as rigorous as the Specters, but that didn’t mean just anyone could join. The squad commander (in this case Tom) would be given noteworthy candidates from the humans, asari, turians, salarians, krogan, quarians, drell, volus, and even hanar. Upon selection, the leader would visit them himself, making the sales pitch of hunting down the remnants of the Reapers.

It was even less glamorous than it sounded, and that was clear to everyone who took the job. Sinclair, the man who held command before Tom, had been a charismatic individual, who knew how to read people, and could know exactly what to say. He’d had to have been, in order to recruit a krogan like Trag. And Tom...Tom just wasn’t like him. Yes, he knew how to talk his way out of a situation, but he couldn’t get into people’s head like Sinclair could. “I...don’t know what to do, Teth.” He spoke in defeat, leaning against the crate. “Trag’s right, our luck has been in short supply lately. Hell, that wasn’t even an official mission. Just some random encounter, and all we’ve got to show for it is two more gone.”

“That doesn’t mean we can give up.” Tethys protested. “This is our mission, our purpose. We do not honor the lost by laying down, but by moving forward. Hardships are not the fires which burn us down, but which forges and strengthens us.” She stated. “If it will just be the two of us, then so be it.”

“I…you’re right.” Tom yielded. Teth has always had a way with words, as befitting an Asari matriarch. But even as Tom agreed with her, that doubt remained in his mind.

So many lost. So many gone, entire lives reduced to memories. Meran wasn’t the first Tom had lost, not by a long shot, but he was the one that broke the camel’s back. As they docked at Polaris Station the next day and Trag stormed off into the crowd, Tom felt the full weight of the loss on him.

There had to be more than this. More than destroying dead monsters just so people wouldn’t have to remember that dreadful war. There had to be…right?

** Undisclosed Location **

** **

A woman in a crisp suit marched through the hallways of a ship, her heels clacking against the ground of the hallway. She approached a door, a hiss opening to reveal a dark room. “Sir?” She asked, and for a second, she thought it was empty.

“I asked not be disturbed.” A raspy male voice stated.

“Apologies, Father, but this of the upmost importance. We just lost contact with one of the salvage teams.” She stated, met with more temporary silence.

“Which one?”

“T-the Exodus cluster team. The ones dispatched to the _Sovereign_ class ship.” She nervously stated. The _Tantalus_ arrived to pick them up per their schedule, only to find no trace of the Reaper. Energy readings were consistent with the detonation of an anti-matter bomb, specifically the kind used by Alliance teams.”

“Undertakers.” The man growled out. It had to be them, it was the only logical explanation. Was their presence there a planned mission, or had the Reaper simply drifted into the path of Alliance patrols?

“Operations wants to know if this affects our plans.”

“Who was attached to the team?” He asked, the woman glanced at her datapad.

“Mainly freelancers. Hired guns and scavengers from Omega, though there were a few of our members involved.” The woman reported.

“Proceed as planned. This should not affect us in any notable way.” The man replied, folding his hands in front of him as his eyes flowed a pale blue.

Soon…soon, the Galaxy would get a reminder they would never forget.


End file.
